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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
kind of for pliroy week but also cuz it’s our smol child’s bday and i love him
- JJ is the type of person to go ALL OUT on birthdays, so Yuri wakes up to singing and cupcakes and goofy smiles.
- Yuri is infamously not a morning person so he kind of shouts at JJ but then kisses him and shyly, angrily thanks him for being so sweet. And JJ takes a million pictures of blushing Yuri eating a cupcake and posts it on literally ever social media he has.
- Vitya and Yuuri call and wish him a happy birthday. They said their present would arrive in a few days since Yuri was spending his birthday in Canada with JJ
- JJ got Yuri a giant-ass stuffed tiger, leopard print skate laces and a new black bomber jacket with cat patches on the sleeves. Yuri loved that more than the cupcakes. JJ almost cried because his boyfriend loved all the stuff.
- They went out to a fancy restaurant for dinner
- Turns out the waiter was extremely homophobic and refused to serve them. So Yuri shouted at him for a little bit while JJ glared. Then they left and went to McDonalds. Which turned out to be better than fancy food because they were allowed to kiss and Yuri let JJ feed him fries (only this once, though)
- Otabek video chatted the couple after they came home and Yuri really did love spending an hour or so talking with his two favorite people.
- They went to sleep after that, and right before they fell asleep, JJ whispered “Happy birthday, Chaton. Always and forever.”
- Which made Yuri blush furiously, though he would never admit it.
Hi guys,
I know it’s too late for #Pliroyweek2017 but I have been too busy with college proyects and so.
This is my first earnest fanart so I tried to spend all the time I could.
This is an AU where Yuri had an accident at Rostelecom Cup, so he hadn’t been classified for Grand Prix Final. He’s depressed because this is the first final he coulnd’t be at the rink but he’s there, supporting his lovely korol’ (russian word for king). Jean sees the effort made by Yuri, so he gave him his gold medal. “You’re the actual prize, Yuri” he said just before kissin at his lips. Actually, for JJ, the best he could win is Yuri’s love; and that’s love, as it is known, is only for Jean.
Я люблю тебя, Jean, мой король, моя звезда.
(I love you, Jean, my king, my star)
Thanks so much to Troya, for supporting and convincing me to do this little fanart.
The glassy wall of the studio isn’t one sheet like Yuri had expected. Thin mirrored panels connect three larger slates, and when Yuri steps in front of one, his body warps, splits in half while his face vanishes.
He likes it.
He stretches out his hand --
(a disembodied boy with arms reaching, reaching, reaching)
-- and thinks of JJ, of his words and songs, of his jacket soaked in cologne that Yuri had tied around his body last night. The jacket’s crumpled up on top of a stack of mats in the corner now -- the stain from Yuri’s spit has faded, but it’s still mortifyingly vivid in Yuri’s mind. Well -- whatever Leroy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“My, Yuri-chan, you walk fast, don’t you?”
JJ’s reflection, smiling and holding two coffees, appears besides his. Turning to take the cup, Yuri scowls, keeps his chin high and his eyes on JJ’s pale blue ones.
“You walk too slow.” Yuri takes a careful sip of his drink, wrinkles his nose. “And don’t call me Yuri-chan.”
“I can’t help it,” JJ hums. Even with his coffee, JJ’s animated, free hand waving and feet stepping in some sort of casual diamond. “You’re like the perfect main character. Grumpy but determined, on the journey for gold but you find friendship along the way.”
“What the fuck,” Yuri says in disbelief. “I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”
JJ shrugs and laughs as Yuri turns away from him, stomps away to his own side of the room.
“Can I play music?” JJ calls after him.
“As long as it’s not yours,” Yuri replies. “Or Britney Spears.”
“Yuri, she’s iconic.”
“Your fault for asking.”
Seemingly taking that for permission, JJ alternates between playing Britney and King JJ’s Greatest Hits, which Yuri ends up arguing with him over because how can you have your own greatest hits album at nineteen, JJ, that’s pretentious as fuck -- and yet, they’re both laughing by the end.
“Back to work,” JJ chides once they settle upon a decent album, and Yuri spins away, feels the familiar burn of exertion work its way through his muscles. He does what he can of his routine, easing his way through the footwork, prepares for the jumps. He leaps, sees JJ soar, and nearly loses his footing. His fingers graze the floor for balance; dust clings to his nails. Shakily, he breathes, and gets up.
It’s soreness from yesterday, Yuri tells himself, not fear. To beat JJ, he’s got to push. Gold is solitary. Gold leaves no room for exhaustion, for the burn beneath eyelids and the whisper of rest. Last night with JJ had been weakness enough so why, why don’t Yuri’s feet want to move? He’s in control; he can do this.
One step, then another, and then a pirouette. The room blurs.
Don’t notice, Yuri thinks in horror, but because the world is unfuckingbelievable, JJ approaches, lifts a hand, and brushes away the tears quivering on Yuri’s eyelashes.
Yuri’s breath hitches, and he forgets. Skate Canada, gold, silver, the earnestness of his country waiting for a champion again -- it all blows away. In that moment, there is only the heat of JJ’s fingers, his callouses, how they brush against Yuri’s lashes, and the moment unsticks when JJ steps even closer, hand decisively curling around Yuri’s cheek, and suddenly the world expands to Yuri’s hammering heartbeat.
JJ kisses his forehead.
His lips are chapped; Yuri thinks of red spilling from his skin, into his eyes. Leroy is blinding, yesterday’s announcer had said, you just can’t look away.
Yuri thinks he understands. Looking up through damp lashes, Yuri sees that, under his bangs, JJ’s skin is littered with faint scars. He wonders if JJ gets freckles in the summer like he does, and finds himself wanting to know.
The silence swells, and Yuri breaks.
“JJ,” Yuri says, “What was that for?” Instantly, he hates the sound of his own voice, draws his hand back from where it’d come up to grasp JJ’s elbow. He remembers: Grandpa, skating, Russia. What was before JJ, and what will come after.
“Sorry,” JJ says, spell broken. “I just--”
“Don’t be embarrassing,” Yuri mutters. “We came here to dance, didn’t we?”
“We came here,” JJ says, “to learn JJ’s Ultimate Skating Secrets, but I guess we could call it dancing, yeah.” He seems more at ease, though, and ruffles Yuri’s hair. Yuri swats his hand away.
“So teach,” Yuri says. “Or are you all talk?”
“First,” JJ says, “we get in the state of mind that we’re the best in the room. You hype yourself up, and then you’re ready to put in work, you know?”
“I woke up for this?” Yuri raises an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, but who has the gold medal here?” JJ says. “Let’s put it this way: you’re the only one who can beat me, chaton, so act like it.”
“You won’t be so cocky at Rostelecom,” Yuri snaps, but something unfolds at the odd compliment. His lips are twitching at the challenge.
“Show me what you’ve got, then,” JJ says. “Unless you’ve got something in mind, you wanna go on a run? It’s nice out, and um. I’ve got to get back for my flight.”
There it is, Yuri tells himself. He wants to feel nothing, and for a minute, he thinks he's got it, until he realizes disappointment is rearing its head slowly, demanding to be felt no matter what.
“Whatever,” Yuri says. “I’ll beat you back to the hotel.”
JJ dashes out of the room, even scooping up his jacket, before Yuri can move, and with a swear, Yuri tears after him. It burns, it burns, but he passes JJ and keeps running without looking back, runs until he’s sure he can sob without being heard.
In just a day, JJ’s thrown everything into disarray. He’s snatched gold from Yuri, then insisted on staying to ‘cheer him up’ no matter what. Yeah, they’d done nothing more than sit side by side at the rink once everyone had cleared out, studying the once crowded seats, the ground that had been dusted in petals and ribbons mere hours ago. JJ had put his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, and, exhausted, Yuri had leaned in. Easy silence flowed between them like some sort of equilibrium, like they were meant to be that way, broken occasionally by murmured stories. In the stands, away from everything, Yuri met Jean-Jacques Leroy.
On ice reigned a king; on ice a tiger snarled and clawed its way towards the throne. On the seats they were usually watched from, JJ whispered a lullaby once Yuri’s eyes began to flutter.
His voice, Yuri remembers thinking sleepily, is nice when it’s like this.
Yuri’s not sure how long they’d slept there but JJ had walked him back to the hotel, gifted him his jacket and a wink, lingered in the doorway. For a moment, Yuri thought JJ would kiss him.
For a moment, Yuri had wanted JJ to kiss him.
And now this -- being here together, feeling marked by JJ’s kiss on his forehead.
The easiest thing to do, Yuri reasons, is nothing.
At fifteen, Yuri’s more acquainted with the chill of rinks and the blare of his headphones than anything else. JJ might be someone who understands --speaking, for both of them, is just a tangling of tongues and a grinding of teeth. Yet JJ tries, and almost as much as he wants to beat him, Yuri wants to try too.
The easy way Kolya has often said, is not usually the right one. As much as Yuri could entertain the thought, wanting another person has never, never been an option. Yeah, it’d crossed his mind seeing Georgi, Mila, and Viktor, but he’d never had someone he’s gotten the chance to even speak to. He is the stepchild of old tales, but vipers fall from his mouth. Talking to JJ is like the fairy’s choice: who will you be? what will you show me? what will i give you in return for your troubles?
He only has enough to spare for the ice. He can’t give JJ diamonds and pearls.
“There is no such thing as never,” Viktor would probably say, a man revitalized, reborn post-Yuuri Katsuki. “You’ll find love, Yuratchka, even if it’s you.” He’d have that absent smile, more scattered than ever since he’d hooked up with Katsudon.
I don’t want it, Yuri thinks. It’s stupid of him to get so worked up over one conversation. So what if JJ wasn’t a total asshole? So what if JJ, under the sharp lines of his brows and jaw and nose, could be soft and curve around Yuri like someone who maybe, just maybe could fit?
Love is giving up your being, and that, that is why his parents split, why Lilia and Yakov are how they are, and why Viktor Nikiforov is someone else entirely. It’s why, back in Russia, Yuri will not give Jean-Jacques Leroy another thought.
“Yuri!”
He turns. JJ’s caught up, sunlight spilling around his dark hair and brightening his pale eyes. They’re more blue than gray, now, and Yuri finds his lips parting.
“JJ.”
“Yuri,” JJ repeats, slinging his arm around Yuri. “I caught you.”
“You’re slow,” Yuri says, but he leans in, feels the sun and JJ warm against him.
